The Serpent & The Apple Tree
by PhoenixUnraveling
Summary: Was she living her life or that of her past? Was he seeing her when he gazed at her with such longing affection or was it Chava? A centuries old love story cut short by violence and greed finds it way back to the surface when a reincarnated goddess is sensed in the body of a freshly graduated Catholic school-girl and her centuries old lover is still alive to tell the tale...
1. Chapter 1

Blood...it slipped between her delicate fingers like a waterfall being drawn down into a precipice by an uncontrollable force. As much as the water could not slow it's descent she could not stop the hemorrhaging and as beautiful as the clear mountain spring would be to a parched traveler, the blood was like both ambrosia and nectar to her. It made her throat burn and her eyes glisten with unbidden tears as she fought her most basic need, it was one that was so new and yet seemed at that moment so very natural. _To feed_.

The precipice grew with alarming clarity as she raised her bloody palm to her lips. It was not the water which had fallen into its depths, but her soul. With the first lap of her slightly roughened tongue she knew she was lost and that there would be no turning back. Head over feet she tumbled into its depth driven by that very primal need, _feed._ It was a hunger that rose up from the pit of her belly cresting into the most inhuman scream. Was it her screaming?

Or the man before her? No, it had to have been her. He gazed at her with eyes of the palest blue, now dull and lifeless. Moments before they had shown with such wild emotions that had now overflown and found their form in the still wet tears that were as quickly as they fell drying on his smooth, tan cheeks. It was with startling clarity as she gazed down at this man remembering the pure, unadulterated fear in his gaze that she realized three things.

One, she had just killed her family doctor. He was a father of four and she'd known him since before she had memories. He liked his mistresses young and he had been known to gamble, but that wasn't reason enough for him to die. Admittedly he hadn't been the most attentive in his marriage or family life either, but he still had not deserved this. Even if he had it would have never been her decision to make. She was neither God, nor the law. Yet, here he laid before her on the cold cement of the hospital parking garage bleeding from a gaping wound in his throat. It was only 12 degrees outside and she knew soon he would without a doubt be cold in more ways than one.

Two, she was either suffering from some strange unknown fixation with blood or she was indeed a...vampire. A fictional, mythical, diabolical, sexual...really however you wanted to look at it creature of the night. Unfortunately, she was about 97% sure it was the latter and every old B rated vampire movie she'd ever seen ran through her head in less than half a second. She wasn't a big movie buff. Bram stoker and Twilight's the Cullens, that was more her style but she sure as hell wasn't Bella or Sookie for that matter. The thick taste of copper ignited on her tongue, _yes_…_How could she have forgotten?_

Then there was number three. It was the most pressing and alarming of them all. At least to her, perhaps to you murder and mythical creatures was more your fare. Her stomach roared in protest almost on queue, as the thought danced across the front of her mind with the clarity of a neon strip-mall sign in Vegas. She was still hungry..._no, she was starving_. And her fresh, new heightened sense of hearing could pick out not only the sound of approaching shoes, but the rushing blood pouring through the woman's veins and the delicate thrum of her pulse.

How she knew it was a woman she was unsure, but she could tell with each sharp click of her heels it was most certainly not a member of staff. What nurse or doctor for that matter would be wearing a pair of $3000 leather boots with a terribly uncomfortable stiletto heel. She would say what man, but then she remembered Franco, a very flamboyant male stripper who adored those very same boots. After all she wouldn't have even recognized them as something different from the Wal-Mart or Payless brand if not for him.

The sound stopped and her thoughts turned a much more dangerous route. One, she had not even seen coming having been lost so deeply in her own thoughts. While she'd drifted away into the land of gum drops and male strippers her body had acted on its own driven by nothing more than the need she was so desperately trying to shut out, _feed._ She watched like a disembodied spirit as her fingers tightened their grip around this woman's long, delicate, swan like throat and..._snap_! The sound echoed through the parking garage and her teeth sank with the precision of a trained killer into the carotid artery of this poor, delicate lamb.

Yes, a lamb. This woman was just as innocent as a small defenseless baby sheep and now she was dead. She'd served as her starve-crazed dinner like that baby lamb that now sat on some rich aristocrat's plate in some expensive restaurant she'd never been to and probably never would at this point. Would they serve it with mint? She'd never eaten lamb herself, but she wasn't sure how mixing meat and mint would be appealing. Then again, she hadn't imagined the taste of blood would appeal to her in that moment either, but it was like wine and this woman was her lamb.

She didn't know this one. She'd never seen her, but as she licked her teeth clean and gazed at her with the same detached interest she had Dr. Fell she felt...absolutely nothing. Her spirit form watched the next few moments unfold with the horror that could only come from what was left of her sanity and at this point, that wasn't very much. The woman was just Dr. Fell's type. Young, blonde, leggy, and she smoked. Not that you'd be able to tell from her artificially enhanced white teeth. She plucked the lighter from her purse and clucked her tongue in disapproval. _Yes...this would work. _

In the morning, the newspaper would read of a terrible accident. A doctor and his mistress had perished in a freak explosion. They'd met for an illicit rendezvous, one thing led to another, the lady's cigarette fell and the rest was history. Poof! Goes the magic dragon, or was it puff? Oh, what did she care? They would now be two charred corpses killed in a freak accident, not unsuspecting victims of a prowling mistress of the night. Her heel hit the ground with a nearly inaudible click and she paused with the lighter in her hand, a smirk painting its way across her lips. They were excellent boots. It would've been such a waste to let them burn.

She flipped the lighter into the car and stalked off with a new found dangerous sway to her hips only pausing briefly to feel the rush of heat as the explosion met her ears. Her lip quirked, her lamb would be well done. She paused as she began to pass a closed store front. It was her reflection that had caught her eye. Like a glass breaking in an empty ball room it all came rushing down. Her hands began to tremble and the nausea came upon her so violently the sound of her knees cracking against the sidewalk echoed the sound of her stomach expelling its contents.

She crumbled as the image brought back her sanity and tears flooded her pale violet eyes. So light they were almost translucent she still remembered the Nun's words when she was a child. She'd been blessed by angels and it showed in her eyes. No, in that moment she realized it was not a blessing, but rather a curse. A curse from demons. Her righteous curls were matted with blood and as pale as the blood was red. She hated her appearance, but there was no denying she was beautiful. Flawless golden skin, a heart shaped face, a perfect cupid's bow, and exotic cat shaped eyes. Each compliment caused her stomach to roll. Ghost, her female classmates called her. Angel, the nickname from the boys. She despised both.

It had been those boys who had destroyed everything. The bruises that had just hours earlier marred her skin had melted away. Rape, it was a harsh word, but it was what they had wanted to accomplish. A graduation party gone wrong. The hatred from the girls mixed spectacularly with the lust from the boys. She hadn't even wanted to go. It wasn't as if she drank or for that matter even had money to spend on alcohol. They weren't her friends and clearly neither was Andrea. Her lab partner for nearly every science class in her college career had stabbed her in the back with the proverbial scalpel.

The terrible thought of what would have happened if he had not been passing by...Sirens met her ears and an uncontrollable instinct shot her to her feet. She ran faster and harder than she'd ever imagined and as the nausea faded that aching hunger returned. It was overshadowed by the face that she could not imagine how she could have possibly forgotten. When he'd gazed into her eyes and told her she was safe, every ounce of fear had melted from her body and she'd crumbled into his arms. Even as he whispered in her ear those strange words she knew she could never shy away from him, if he wished to hold her forever she would never leave, "Chava, history repeats itself with you."

Where was he now? She prayed she hadn't ripped his throat out too.


	2. Chapter 2

"I thought I might find you like this." His voice was like decadent chocolate and silk sheets merged into one, but it was neither sex nor desire that she heard in his tone. It was pity, perhaps a bit of understanding?

As the memories flooded back to her, her fantasy man had become reality and she realized all too well who was responsible for her predicament. Predicament...what a way to describe it. Not even twenty-four hours ago she was walking across the stage of Endicott College with a fresh new diploma in her hand. Three years of hard work had finally paid off and next she had hoped to spend her remaining college years at Yale. She'd wanted to be an Obstetrician. That was a lost cause now, she'd just graduate from her murder of adults to babies. The thought made her stomach churn and as if he sensed it a hand fell against her nude back.

She suspected it was meant to be comforting in its own way, but to her it just made her want to cry and she was not a crier. She'd grown up without any parents, an orphan essentially save for the Nuns. They'd instilled in her mind the path to salvation and alternatively the path to hell. She was once again at that 97% mark, but she was almost positive she'd crossed that the previous evening. An angel of death she'd terrorized the poor town in nothing more than her white cotton panties and a hospital gown.

_Yes…_the only life that truly deserved taking at that point was her own and it was also the only one she had the right to take. The only thing stopping her wasn't that to commit suicide would without a doubt land her in hell. She already knew Heaven was a lost cause at this point. It was the fact that even after everything she didn't want to die. So many regrets found their way into her mind, so many things she hadn't done and wished she had. In reality though, what right did she have to feel this way?

Should she not live with her burden, her curse? But what right did she have to live at all? "It is not such an easy decision that you could make it in one night." She dug her toes into the sand and peered at him through the veil of her hair. He sat beside her in a crisp black suit, his tie was undone, and he must've ditched his shoes up on the boardwalk like she had discarded those cursed boots.

His strong jaw was relaxed as he gazed out at the horizon unperturbed by the lightening sky. The pale blue at the edge of the ocean seemed to match his eyes and for the first time in hours she found her voice, "What is?"

It sounded almost foreign to her ears. She watched as his eyelids fell closed for a moment as if he were savoring something, something almost painful. He muttered in a language she could not understand before he turned to her and she found as much as she feared his gaze she could not look away. What more did she have to fear in that moment? "To end one's existence. I have lived more than a millenia and still have yet to make such a decision."

She swallowed thickly and she realized how dry the ocean air was making her throat or was that the thirst? Would it ever lessen? Would this gnawing hunger ever diminish? She turned away from his gaze, "I don't deserve to live. I have killed…"

She tensed as she felt the cool metal slide onto her finger. She hadn't even felt him grasp her hand, but as quickly as she felt it the cool flesh of her back reminded her where it had rested before. His grip tightened as if sensing her intent to pull away and she could only watch him in utter bemusement. She knew she stood no chance of escaping him. She was a rodent mesmerized by the serpent.

He brought her hand to his lips brushing them ever so lightly, so sensually across her knuckles. It was an instantaneous reaction, the sharp pain in the pit of her lower abdomen and the sharp intake of her breath.

She'd never been good at hiding her reactions. Reactions? What was she kidding? She'd on more than one occasion been told she was an ice princess, emotionless, absent from the world around her. She knew her skin flushed as an unfamiliar heat rushed through her, and again she found she could not turn away. She was trapped, a willing prisoner to this man...this being...she could not even fathom what he was, nor what she had or would become.

"That is my fault for not being by your side when you awoke. Evelyn, my Eve, allow me to take on your sins." He slid his hand over her cheek brushing her curls back behind her ear and cupping her jaw. He tilted her chin up as if tipping back a glass of wine and rested his thumb ever so lightly against her bottom lip.

"If you deserve to die, I should be burned a hundred times over." She was entranced by his gaze and that delicate pressure he placed on her lip. It was far too distracting, but what did she really want to think of? Her tongue slipped out wetting her lips and inevitably trailed over his thumb. She pondered, it was a sweet, but salty flavor, the taste of a man's flesh and she found in that moment he was no different than any mere human she had slaughtered in the past hours. She craved his blood just as much as any other, if not more. Pain lanced through her chest, would she end up hurting him too?

He leaned forward and she let her eyes fall shut to conceal not only her fear, but her roiling emotions. Again he whispered those ancient words and she knew he had seen it. She knew he recognized not only her confusion, but her fear and not just of the night, but of him. He changed his trajectory and a longing she hadn't realized she felt grew in the pit of her stomach. Her teeth sank gently into her lower lip as she felt his lips press against the skin on her forehead.

Was that disappointment she felt or pure desire? She sighed and he chuckled, "Patience is a virtue."

She was not feeling very virtuous in that moment and her eyes shot back open as a feeling of resentment poured through her veins. She gazed at him sharply, was he laughing at her? He'd already risen to his feet and when he offered his hand she felt the rapidly swaying emotions quell and she knew she could not resist his words, "Come." She took his hand, but could not stop her internal protest, "Can you not let me die?"

His jaw clenched and the sunlight danced off his hair making it shine like gold. Like before, the weight of his words confused and intrigued her, he was as much an enigma as any of her newfound emotions"Not a second time." She could not yet find the courage to ask him what he meant, but she knew it was of great significance or perhaps that was just her over thinking. She'd been told she did that and she most certainly was not in her right mind. She bit back a giggle as she had a rather hysterical thought.

Who would've thought she'd spend the night slaughtering innocent people only to end up walking hand in hand on the beach with a gorgeous man watching the sun rise. If she'd know that was all it took before...She bit back a shriek as she was lifted easily into his arms, "What are you doing?"

_What was she thinking?_ His lip quirked in amusement, "It wouldn't make me much of a gentleman if I let you walk about barefoot."

She looked at him for a long moment, had he seriously just said that? She had clearly instilled in his mind the image of a damsel in distress. Considering the nights events she could not blame him. She could only hope she did not destroy his illusions so spectacularly, "Somehow I think that is the last word someone would use to describe you."

One might call it a gut instinct, but he was a vampire and his species reputation preceded him. Then again who was she to talk and where again had this smart mouth come from? She thought she had wrangled that under control years ago or the Nuns had. She was truly losing it. His laugh broke through her mental tirade and he gazed down at her with a wicked grin, "You might be right."

Her lip quirked ever so slightly and she wondered if she should fear that grin or welcome it. The rollercoaster of emotions she'd endured in the last 24 hours was enough to knock out an elephant, let alone the physical exhaustion of transversing the entirety of Beverly, MA in one night. It was no surprise her eyes found themselves drifting closed and as if he read her mind with one word her battle was lost, "Sleep."

Francisco Gravure or Franco as he was more affectionately titled was by no means a drama queen, but when it came to his angelic little vixen he was pretty much willing to pull out any and all of the stops even if it landed him in lock up. Of course, his little vixen was more often than not less than sympathetic to his plight. He could just imagine her pursed little rosy red lips and that disapproving glare, "Franco, when will you learn to think?"

"Princess, when will you learn to feel?" He would shoot back, but it was clear from her gaze that she felt. It was just how much pf her emotions she realized before she shut them down behind that steel gate with an industrial sized padlock. He couldn't fathom the man who held the combination. He loved her like that hot step sister you'd welcomed to the family with every intention of having no more than a familial relationship with, but that you found yourself wacking off to in the bathroom at least twice a week. Eh, but you might not understand.

Most people did not understand him, rather make that 99% of the human populace. The only person who truly understood him was his princess, Evelyn Delacroix. She'd been given not only that horrendous outdated first name, but the "of the cross" last name by the Nuns who had bore her. Her mother had abandoned her on the doorstep of the church without a second thought to the below freezing weather. If the Nuns hadn't found her she would've never had the glorious chance of meeting him. She would have never experienced life, hence the first name or so it had been explained to him.

Personally in his opinion, she wasn't living much of it as it was with her nose never leaving her text book long enough to give her nether regions a tickle. That's probably why when he arrived back at their apartment to find the little minx nowhere in sight he'd gone straight to the police station. Evelyn never stayed out late, ever. Something had happened and he was sure of it and he wasn't about to back down until every pig in the state, no the country was out look at her. She was far too beautiful to have been left alone at that hour.

Perhaps he'd been a bit exuberant in his demands, but had they really needed to lock him up? He rubbed his wrist thoughtfully gazing down at his outfit. Or perhaps it had been mistaken identity? With the way he was dressed he'd fit right in with all the hookers and trannies in the waiting room. It had been 70's night at the club. Leopard print leggings, a neon pink tanktop, and 3 inch platforms did nothing to hide nearly twenty years of track and field. 6'3", he was a god made of chocolate, but he wasn't about to let just anyone have a taste.

He'd been shoved into this cage by a pig that looked like he was about 20 years past due for the slaughterhouse and had been left alone with one drunk sleeping in the corner, a twitching meth-head, and a frat boy who just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off his junk. His lip quirked into a devilish smirk. He always loved the curious type, the uncorrupt sweet little virgins with their tight little asses ripe for the taking. He just couldn't resist the urge to make them squirm.

Grasping his package he made a point to push his hips forward in a taunting thrust. The pale blue eyes widened and the boy's attention was locked on. Hell, he may have been his age, but he was without a doubt still a child when it came to the things Franco had planned for him. He dragged one hand up under his pink wife beater baring each inch of delicious skin slowly, his chiseled abs flexed as he rolled one of his nipples between his thumb and index finger pulling it taut. The boy's gaze shot up to his face watching as he ran his hand slowly along his jaw dipping his middle finger between his full lips sucking it once before flicking it ever so lightly with the tip of his tongue.

He winked and blew the boy a single kiss before he allowed himself a laugh. A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he heard the strangled sound leave the boy's throat. He choked, coughing as his cheeks turned as red as he fully intended to make his ass. He looked like the type that would enjoy a good spanking. He watched expectantly, if the boy's cock gave even the tiniest twitch Franco would be satisfied.

The boy turned back to him and a triumphant smirk danced across his face. Ooo, definitely more than just a twitch. As if on queue he stepped forward and the door to the cell rattled. His head turned sharply, oh great...Mr. Piggy had returned, "Francisco Gravure?" He asked, his own cheeks looking slightly flushed and rosy. How long had he been watching? The thought that he might've been aroused by the sight made his stomach turn. It looked like his innocent little boy toy's anal cherry would be saved, for now.

He held up a hand, "Over here piggy." He taunted, his deep southern drawl clashing with his outrageous appearance. Being born and raised in Tennessee would do that to a man.

"You're free to go." His heart leapt, had his angel bailed him out? Or were there more people out there who liked him than he thought? Either way he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took a step towards the door and paused, a thought struck him. He turned back.

"Lady Mauve's on 7th Avenue. I'll be waiting." The boy's eyes widened and his breath caught. He didn't wait for the boy's agreement, the raging hard on between his thighs was enough of a promise for him.

When he stepped out into the glaring sunshine of morning he flinched, "Agh!" He was going to have a hangover. He shielded his eyes and cursed the thought that he hadn't thought to bring sunglasses. He'd been to worried about his princess. At that thought he pursed his lips, the stupid pig had been far to cagey about who had bailed him out and there still wasn't any word on Evelyn. If anything had happened to her…

He tripped barely catching himself before he tumbled down the steps and landed on top of a gorgeous blonde goddess. She had to be related to Evelyn. She was standing outside what appeared to be a freshly waxed bright red Ferrari and was gazing straight up at him. While his angel was all ice, she was heat and with each inch his eyes trailed over he began to ponder all the fantasies of the last four years of college. Where had this beautiful woman been all his life? He remembered his appearance and could just read the headlines now. 6'3" black trannie assaults poor unsuspecting white woman in front of the police station and he couldn't deny that was exactly what he wanted to do to her right now.

She smirked pulling her sunglasses off the top of her hair and offering them to him, "You, my dear look like you need these far more than me." He stepped forward like a marionette on its many strings and rather than taking the glasses from her hand he knelt before her. Her amusement grew as she slid them over his eyes, "Ah, they even look better on you."

"Who are you?" He asked, his eyes glazed in lust and she reached forward slowly trailing her hand over his cheek, "You must be Francisco Gravure, I am Rebekah and I, think the two of us will be getting to know each other very well."

She tilted his chin up with the tiniest flick of her finger and leaned forward with each word watching his pupils dilate the closer she got. She closed her lips in a tight smile just before her lips could brush his, "Come, Franco."

She stepped back watching as he walked forward and opened her door. Once she climbed into the driver's seat she waited for him to climb in beside her. Her source had been right, he was a sight to behold. Reincarnation had not changed him a bit and she couldn't wait to see the look on Klaus's face when he met her newest pet. She trailed her hand up his thigh grasping his manhood as she pulled out into traffic, "You belong to me Franco, do you understand?"

"Yes, Rebekah." Oh this was going to be fun.


End file.
